Otherworld Challenger

by Jane Godman

  His eyes glittered. “I’ll bear that information in mind for another time.” He leaned closer. “When I can use it to my own advantage...and yours.”

  She gave a little gasp, her nerve endings instantly firing up at the prospect. “Don’t say things like that to me. Not here.”

  “Why not? Since we have to be in this god-awful place, we may as well enjoy ourselves. And, believe me, the thought of you with no underwear is probably the only thing that will get me through the next few hours.”

  Vashti took a moment to study his garments. Jethro was clad in breeches, hose, boots and a velvet doublet with a short cloak flung back over one shoulder. The outfit suited his devil-may-care looks. “You look...” She paused, seeking the right words to explain. “As though you were born to wear those clothes.”

  He grimaced. “The sooner we get back to civilization the better. I don’t like the feeling of being powerless, of waiting for something to happen.” He glanced around the crowded room. “Is it just me or do you get the feeling we’re the main attraction?”

  He was right. Surreptitious glances were being constantly cast in their direction. “I suppose it’s because people don’t come here,” Vashti said. “Even Cal is afraid of Avalon. And remember how Lorcan and Tanzi described the way it fades in and out of view as if it is only intended to be reached by a select few? We are probably the first visitors this castle has seen for centuries.”

  “Hmm.” Jethro looked unconvinced. “Either that or we’re wearing these clothes all wrong.”

  They were joined by Aydan and Lisbet, both suitably attired in their medieval clothing. “So what’s the plan?” Aydan asked. “We can’t go around asking every man in the room if he is the real heir to the faerie crown.”

  The look Lisbet gave him was faintly annoyed. It wasn’t the first time Vashti had observed her intolerance toward him. She was his girlfriend, how could she fail to see his good qualities? “Can’t we just enjoy the atmosphere?”

  “No, we came here for one reason only,” Jethro reminded her. “Two in my case,” he added as Iago appeared at the head of the staircase. “I have a few scores to settle.”

  Ever the showman, Iago halted, drawing all eyes to him. “It is my great pleasure to welcome our guests to my home and to invite you all to join me in this banquet in their honor.” There was a ripple of applause. “They have been summoned here by our great leader—my beloved grandmother—Morgan le Fay, who, sadly, cannot join us in person.”

  Was it Vashti’s imagination or was there a ripple of nervous laughter at those words? She definitely didn’t imagine Iago’s frown or the instant silence that followed it. Maybe the laughter was relief. She couldn’t believe Morgan’s presence would be conducive to a pleasant occasion.

  “So, my friends—” Iago clapped his hands together “—let us eat, drink and be merry!”

  Vashti supposed she should have predicted she would be seated next to Iago. Jethro, at the opposite side of the vast round table, between Lisbet and Aydan, sent a helpless, sympathetic glance in her direction. The food, served on wooden platters, was delicious. Iago was determined to be attentive. If that meant leaning a little too close and watching her with a proprietorial look in his eye, Vashti did her best to ignore it.

  When his hand dropped to her thigh, she decided enough was enough. Gripping his wrist with all her strength—which was not insignificant—she looked him in the eye. “Touch me again and I’ll cut off the part of you that is closest to me.”

  “You don’t mean that. Not here in my own castle, in front of all these people.”

  “Try me.” She kept her eyes fixed on his.

  With a slight, nervous laugh, Iago withdrew his hand, rubbing his wrist. “When my grandmother returns, she has promised me I can have you.”

  “I’m not a toy in a shop window.”

  He lifted one shoulder. “You may as well be. If I want you, you are mine.”

  Vashti tilted her knife onto its hilt, watching as the candlelight caught the blade. “Remember what I said. The part that is closest to me.” As Iago shuddered slightly and crossed his legs, she smiled. “So, where is Morgan? We are expected to dance to her tune, yet we have no idea of when, or even if, she will return.”

  “It is wise not to question the ways of the fae one.” Some of the sulkiness left his tone and he sounded pompous once more.

  The fae one. Vashti frowned as she chased an elusive memory. Where had she heard those words recently? The fae one will seek me out. That was what Bertha had said when she realized Jethro was finally sending her to Otherworld. When Vashti had asked Jethro what his mother meant, he’d replied it was impossible to tell because her mind was full of holes and she probably didn’t know herself. What if Bertha had known exactly what she meant? Could she have been referring to Morgan le Fay? Why would Jethro’s mother think the legendary sorceress would seek her out? Bertha had been afraid when she’d said it. There was no question about that.

  “So we must remain here until Morgan decides to honor us with her presence?”

  Iago inclined his head. “I see you understand the ways of the fae one.”

  Vashti made a small, strangled sound of impatience and, rising from her seat, stomped away.

  Chapter 16

  Because everyone was inside the great hall, the courtyard was empty. Vashti, glad of a few moments away from Iago’s claustrophobic—and infuriating—presence, leaned against the wall and dragged in a welcome breath of fresh air. While there was no doubt about his amorous intentions toward her, Iago was obviously taking greater pleasure from annoying her. And I keep rising to it. If she was going to get through her time on Avalon with her sanity intact, she would have to learn to ignore his taunts. Yes, I will simply change my personality. Become serene and swanlike. That should be easy.

  She was distracted from her thoughts by footsteps crossing the stone flags of the courtyard. She didn’t want anyone to see her and question her presence here. Unless it was Jethro, of course. The sidhe woman who walked across the courtyard didn’t glance in her direction. She was an unremarkable figure. Small and slender, with nothing to make her stand out in a crowd. Except Vashti would have known her anywhere. She was the woman who had raised her. The only person to show her and Tanzi love during their formative years. The reason they knew right from wrong, despite Moncoya’s efforts to the contrary.

  “Rina!” Hitching up her skirts and breaking into a run, Vashti dashed across the cobblestones almost scaring the other woman half to death.

  Rina paused, clearly wondering whether to stop or run away. When she saw who it was, her face lit up. Her delicate features broke into the smile she had always reserved for her royal charges.

  “My dearest Princess Vashti.” She uttered the words fondly as Vashti hurtled to a standstill in front of her. Rina was one of the few people who had been able to tell them apart as they were growing up. As adults they made a concerted effort to look different and Tanzi wore her hair long while Vashti kept hers short. As children they’d both had waist-length blond hair that Rina had brushed and plaited every night.

  Forgetting her dislike of physical contact—that was reserved for people she didn’t love—Vashti threw her arms around Rina, drawing her into an embrace that washed away all the irritation caused by Iago’s barbs. When they drew apart, Rina’s face was shining and Vashti’s cheeks were wet with tears.

  Rina led her to a stone bench set in a shadowy corner of the courtyard. “How are you? The last time I saw you, you were recovering from the injuries you sustained during the battle.” Rina bit her lip. “You were very ill. I was afraid you might not live.”

  “Tanzi nursed me. Without her care I might have died.” Vashti clasped Rina’s hands in her own. “But what are you doing here?”

  “Avalon is my home. I am one of Morgan le Fay’s maidservants.”

/>   Vashti tried to contain her shock at the words. So many questions rose to her lips. They never knew what had happened to Rina after her father dismissed her. Vashti and Tanzi had been the equivalent of twelve mortal years on that fateful day when Moncoya had decided they were too close to their nurse. So, one fine morning, they had come down to breakfast to be given the news that Rina was gone.

  “We missed you so much, Tanzi and I. We tried everything we could think of to get you back.”

  Rina returned the clasp of her hands. “The years we had together were the happiest of my life.”

  “If you are Morgan’s maidservant, how did you manage to get away from Avalon so you could come to see me when I was injured?”

  Rina became flustered. “My mistress was very generous—”

  “Morgan le Fay?” Vashti interrupted. “Generous?”

  Rina cast a quick glance around her. “Very well.” She lowered her voice. “She allowed me to visit you at the faerie palace because she wanted information about the outcome of the battle for Otherworld, particularly about the death of her sister, Niniane.”

  “So she sent you to spy on us.”

  Rina hung her head. “Please do not blame me. It meant I could see you and make sure you were well, my princess.”

  Vashti thought back to that time. She had sustained a broken pelvis during the battle and had been left for dead by her father when he made his escape. It was only through Tanzi’s insistence the battlefield should be searched for her body that she had been found in time to be saved. Then, despite Vashti’s determination to be the worst patient in history, Tanzi had nursed her back to health. Vashti had been healing when her sister had disappeared. Later it had emerged that Tanzi had fled to the mortal realm in search of Lorcan when Moncoya had announced his plans for her marriage to the devil. Alone, hurt, angry at her sister’s apparent desertion, Vashti remembered the day Rina had walked through her door. It had been like a ray of sunshine in the gloom.

  “I don’t blame you. I know exactly who I blame.” Vashti knew her voice must be cold by the way Rina raised scared eyes to her face. “Morgan le Fay.”

  Once again Rina cast that scared look around. “Listen to me. You must get away from here. You don’t know what is going on.”

  “So tell me.”

  “I cannot.” Rina’s eyes filled with tears and Vashti realized she was witnessing genuine terror.

  “Vashti!” Jethro’s voice rang out across the empty courtyard. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”

  Vashti turned to face him. Even through her anger at Morgan, he had the power to take her breath away. As he reached them, he glanced at her hands clasping Rina’s and raised a curious brow. “Jethro, this is my old nurse, Rina. Rina, this is...”

  “I know who you are.” Rina was gazing at Jethro with the strangest expression on her face. It was a combination of wonder and—Vashti paused to consider if she had the right word—yes, it really was adoration.

  Jethro gave a slight head jerk in Rina’s direction while keeping his eyes on Vashti’s. One of those all-encompassing “is she okay?” gestures. “Nice to meet you, Rina.” He paused, looking down into the older woman’s face. “Rina. I know that name. Have we met before?”

  Rina seemed to collect herself. Shaking her head vehemently, she rose. “No, never. Please remember what I said, my princess. This is not a good place. You should leave here at once. Both of you.” On those words, she scurried away.

  “Well, she seems nice. Well-balanced. Levelheaded. Just the type of person you’d want for a child’s nurse.” Jethro stared after Rina’s departing figure.

  “She wasn’t like that when we were children.”

  Jethro didn’t answer, his eyes held a faraway, unfocused look as he stared around the courtyard. “Something isn’t right here.”

  “You can say that again.” Vashti laughed.

  “No, I mean here, in this courtyard. That tower shouldn’t be as tall as that. And it was never at that angle in the original castle of Camelot.”

  “Is that something you read in your Arthurian legends?” Vashti asked. “Did they contain that much detail?”

  “Pardon?” Jethro shook himself as though coming out of a trance. “I suppose we should go back inside,” he said with a lack of enthusiasm that matched Vashti’s own.

  Reaching out a hand, he pulled her up from her seat. Together, they entered the castle. The sounds of merriment from the great hall reached them and Vashti grimaced, steeling herself for a return to Iago’s side. Instead she was surprised when Jethro took a turn down a different corridor, leading her away from the noise and light, into a darker, narrower passageway.

  “Where are we going?”

  He glanced down at her, his eyes sparkling with that flash of devilment unique to him. “Wait and see.”

  “Jethro, we can’t...”

  Rounding a corner Jethro glanced quickly around before tugging her behind a tapestry screen and into a dark alcove. “What can’t we do?” His lips were on her neck as he pushed her up against the wall.

  Vashti melted instantly, everything except the pleasure of being in his arms instantly forgotten. Jethro’s kiss was urgent, his tongue seeking hers and she gave herself up to the demands of his mouth, squirming with pleasure as he tugged her dress down from her shoulders so his lips could move lower and claim her breasts.

  “I love it when your nipples harden in anticipation before my lips close over them.” His voice was husky and Vashti groaned as he bent his head, matching actions to his words. His tongue flicked back and forth over one stiff nub then the other, driving her to a point just short of delirium. She tangled her hands in his hair, holding him to her, wanting the moment to last forever yet craving more.

  Jethro raised his head, his eyes glinting pure passion in the gloom. His hands moved over her buttocks, holding her tight against his body as he lifted her skirts. Helpless, Vashti rested her forehead against his chest as his fingers probed and separated her buttocks before probing the flesh between them. He bent his head, touching his lips to the side of her neck before nipping the tender skin. They stood pressed together in the shadows as distant sounds of revelry reached them. Vashti opened her legs wider, allowing him to reach her core.

  “I love how you feel.” Jethro pressed one long finger deep inside her. Withdrawing it, he held her gaze. Raising the finger to his mouth, he slowly sucked on it. “And how you taste.”

  His mouth descended on hers, hot and demanding. His kiss stifled her moans as his fingers stroked and teased. Pressure built inside her as Jethro found her clitoris and rubbed. His tongue delved into her mouth and, in a mirror movement, he pressed that long finger deep inside her. Her muscles tightened around him and her breasts ached as they pressed against the muscled hardness of his chest. His erection was rock-hard as he ground himself against her, stimulating himself while he pleasured her.

  “I love those sounds you make when you come.” His breathing was ragged in her ear. “Make them for me now, Vashti.”

  Vashti cried out into his mouth as Jethro finally tipped her over the edge. Their kisses grew more desperate as he rocked his fingers against her a few more times, then swung her around so she could support herself with her hands against the wall.

  Freeing his cock from the restraining breeches, he drove into her from behind. So fast and hard she cried out. “But most of all, I love this.” He was panting now as he plunged in and out of her. “I love being inside you, feeling you hot and tight around me. You feel like heaven.”

  Lost to anything but the sensation of his iron-hard erection pistoning into her with increasing ferocity, Vashti pushed back against him, matching his furious rhythm, feeling the tension rising within her once more. She was already coming a second time when she felt Jethro’s cock swell and jerk inside her as, unable to hold back, his relea
se overwhelmed him.

  When the frenzy subsided and Jethro withdrew from her, turning her so he could hold her, Vashti rested her head against his chest, listening to his heart as it gradually returned to a normal beat.

  “Was I too rough? Too fast?” His voice was filled with concern. Unable to speak, she shook her head. “I wanted you so badly. Needed you. You are the only thing that makes this place bearable.”

  Vashti lifted her head. Standing on the tips of her toes, she pressed her lips to his. “Just so you know, I liked it rough and fast. So anytime you need me...”

  He groaned. “Stop it, you minx, or you’ll find yourself up against that wall again. I think we really should get back to that damn banquet, don’t you?”

  Sighing as she adjusted her clothes, Vashti nodded. “I suppose it’s the only way we’ll find the challenger.” She looked up at him, surprised to see him watching her with an arrested expression on his face. “What is it?”

  “The challenger. I’d forgotten all about him.”

  Jethro found their way back to the great hall through the maze of corridors with unerring ease. “How did you know that place was there?” Vashti asked. He’d managed to find a private place, yet there hadn’t been time for him to check it out in advance.

  “I don’t know.” He frowned as though trying to remember. “I just did.”

  Vashti didn’t have any opportunity to question him further as they arrived at the great hall and Iago hurried forward to greet them. His expression was sullen. “We were about to start the toasts. It would look a bit odd without the guests of honor.”

  Jethro flashed his wicked grin in Vashti’s direction as he explained the reason for their lengthy absence. “We lost our way in the castle corridors.”

  * * *

  The next morning Jethro and Vashti met at the base of the highest hill. Iago had granted them the freedom to treat Avalon as their home while they were there. He had no idea, of course, that they were seeking the challenger as well as awaiting Morgan’s arrival.